Package Delivered Safe, Wife Left Behind

“Evening, Donna.”

Seraphina stood in the doorway, a grocery bag in her hand. Donovan walked in right behind her, moving through the foyer as if they both belonged there.

“Sera’s cooking tonight,” he said, glancing at me. “Just sit back. Relax.”

I stayed on the living room sofa, watching her walk into my kitchen like it was hers.

She opened the pantry without hesitation.

She knew every shelf, every spice, every pan. It was the muscle memory of someone who’d done this countless times.

“Did you rearrange things, Donna?” she called out, half amused. “Everything’s in a different spot.”

“I tidied up last week.”

“Oh, okay...Wait, there it is. Donovan, can you grab the stockpot for me? It’s too high.”

He was already beside her before she finished speaking.

They moved around each other in the close space like a couple who’d shared a kitchen for years, while I sat like a guest in my own home.

Seraphina leaned out, a gentle smile on her face.

“Donovan mentioned your neck’s been hurting. Is it bad?”

“It’s fine.”

“God, you’re so tough. I could never handle those long flights. I get so nervous landing alone. I can’t even breathe right unless Donovan meets me at the gate.”

That’s why he’d picked her up fifty times.

“Donna, you really fly all by yourself? Donovan doesn’t even drop you off?”

“She’s got it handled,” Donovan cut in, a hint of pride in his voice, like praising a reliable soldier. “Vi’s nothing like you, Sera. Doesn’t need her hand held.”

Not that I never needed it. That no one ever bothered to offer.

“So true,” Seraphina laughed, sweet but edged. “Donna’s amazing. I don’t know what I’d do without Donovan, honestly.”

Dinner was ready in forty-five minutes. Every dish was his favorite, cooked exactly the way he liked.

“Try this, Donovan. Made it just how you like. Extra spice.”

“This is good.” He gave a thumbs-up, then shot me a look, his voice cool. “Wish you cooked like this, Vi.”

He was shaming me, in front of her, for not feeding him the way she did.

“That’s not fair,” Seraphina said, waving a hand. “Don’t be mean. Donna has enough to handle.”

Halfway through the meal, Seraphina slid her phone across the table toward me.

“Look, Donna! Donovan had a custom GPS tracker installed in my phone. If anything happens, he can find me right away. Donny, remember that time in Brooklyn when…”

Her voice faded into a buzz in my ears.

My husband had put a tracker in another woman’s phone.

He couldn’t even be bothered to read the flight details I texted him.

And the woman called my husband “Donny”?

“You want me to set you up with one too, Donna?”

“No, thanks.”

“She doesn’t need it,” Donovan answered for me, his tone flat.

“She can handle herself.”

After dinner, Seraphina came back from the kitchen holding a pair of custom 18k gold cufflinks. A small plane was engraved beside the Valentino crest.

“Donny, look what I found tucked away. These are stunning.”

They were my first-anniversary gift to him. I’d designed them myself.

The plane was for us: a silent wish for safe travels, and that he’d be there when I landed.

He’d worn them three times, then tossed them into a drawer.

“Just an old pair. Not worth much. You like them? Keep them.”

He’d just given my wedding anniversary gift to her. Like it was nothing.

Seraphina hesitated, her eyes flicking to me. “Donna… do you mind?”

I stared at the glint of gold, thinking of the woman who’d sketched that design, who still believed this marriage could be everything she wanted.

What a joke.

“Go ahead,” I said, my voice steady.

“I don’t mind.”